


the world is ours

by orphan_account



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-03
Updated: 2010-10-03
Packaged: 2017-10-12 09:33:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/123451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stéphane 'moves in'. Johnny is jealous. Light crack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the world is ours

The first time they had fooled around had been a really long time ago, at least four years, maybe more. Johnny didn't remember which competition it had been, there were too many, and it wasn't like he had taken notes who he had kissed during which one. Not that he'd kissed a lot of fellow sportsmen during competitions - he preferred not to let play and work get in each other's way, after all.

It had definitely been before the whole boyfriend fiasco - that had taught him about dating while on the job - and then, once, after, but they hadn't even had sex, because, well. That would have been too complicated. And they both had principles, after all.

So there was definitely history there - kissing history. Making out, simple as that. Lots of tongue, too. Johnny had enjoyed it immensely. He could be enjoying it again, in fact; at least this time, it would be between seasons, so he didn't have to have a guilty conscience that he was fucking up his training regime.

The thing was, Johnny had no fucking idea who had told Stéphane that coming to New Jersey was a good idea. He had an inkling that Viktor might have had something to do with it - a flash of jealousy ran through him, because Viktor was _his_ co-coach and Stéphane better keep his paws to himself - but mainly, Stéphane had explained, a change of scenery might do him some good, and at least this way, he wouldn't be distracted by the sparkling entertainment of Madrid and could focus on his jumps.

Johnny thought he should have smelled this from a mile away. Stéphane _had_ called him after all, enquiring about random training opportunities in the area. The bitch, he'd said he was considering Canada. Canada was the new Russia, apparently, and everyone was going to Canada these days.

But Johnny wasn't bitter. He liked to share, after all. Or at least, everyone said so. He wasn't so sure himself. Galina hadn't been too excited about the idea, but at least, she had said, it would give Johnny something to focus on beside his own training schedule. A bit of competition during practice, she'd said, would do them both good. Apparently, it was 'an appeal to both their ambitious natures' and would 'make them train so much harder'.

And Johnny'd actually been looking forward to having a bit of relaxation time now that this season had been so much better than last. A bit of a chilling period. A longer vacation. Some shows in between. Some fucking ice cream.

It looked like Galina's plan was working. Johnny let himself fall back into his bed with a thump, pulling his pillow over his face with a groan. He was so fucked.

~*~

So the problem was obvious to everyone, even himself. And Johnny was mature, he really was, but this was getting ridiculous. This was... this was like a cuckoo putting an egg in _his_ freakin nest, and that wasn't funny, it really wasn't.

The problem was, the others all fucking _loved_ Stéphane. Especially Galina. And Galina was hard-ass. Galina had taken _days_ to grow to love Johnny. And no, Johnny wasn't yet far enough sunk to call Stéphane by his surname, but if Stéphane kept kissing asses, Johnny swore he would start.

Johnny knew Stéphane could be a total bitch, so why was he suddenly _nice_ to everyone? He was like - he brought cookies! Home-made cookies! With barely any sugar, and how was it possible to make cookies without any sugar and still make them taste _good_? How was it possible to _make_ cookies at all while living in a freakin _hotel_?

Well, it was possible, Johnny admitted, if one was charming enough to the chef so that he/she allowed entrance into the hotel kitchen. But Stéphane wasn't _that_ charming.

'Charming enough, apparently, since he did get to put his tongue down your throat,' that little voice in his mind reminded him that always sounded distinctly like a sneering Evan Lysacek.

Yes, there was a horror show playing on repeat in Johnny's mind. Nobody had ever said he was sane.

So anyway, Stéphane was there for barely a week, and he already had Viktor and Galina wrapped around his little finger when it came to anything but training. Neither of the two had any mercy whatsoever when it came to the training, for which Johnny was now, hypocritical as he was, very glad. At least Stéphane wasn't getting any special treatment on the ice. That was something.

And he still couldn't land the triple axel any better than last season, heh.

Johnny wandered over to the couch into the living room and laid down, switching on the TV, bored. It was past eight. He should have been in his bed, trying to sleep, but that wasn't working so well right now. He chose not to think about that.

Instead, he went and thought about how irritated Stéphane's presence in his own rink made him. That was better. It was a pity he didn't have a dart board.

~*~

Dinner went... relatively well. Johnny had to admit, he'd only emptied his glass of water intentionally over Stéphane's lap once. The second time had been purely accidental. Of course, he hadn't meant for Victor to offer up one of his own pants to help Stéphane out. That was annoying. Also, he had a feeling Nina was giving him the evil eye because of that, but nobody had ever said Johnny Weir wasn't petty when he was in a sulk.

Everyone had their phases.

However, when after dinner, instead of participating in adult talk and important figure skating facts and boring Nina to death, as they always did during those dinners when they'd invited someone else, Stéphane got up because Victoria grabbed his hand and wanted to show him her new drawings and Stéphane actually _went_ with her to _play_ , Johnny couldn't help but glare daggers at his departing back.

" _What_ is your problem?" Nina asked him, slapping the back of his head gently.

"Nothing," Johnny muttered. "I don't have any problems."

"Hm-hm," she grinned. "Don't tell me you've got a crush. Already?"

Johnny moved his daggers from Stéphane's back to her face. "Talking from experience, are you?"

"Aw," Nina patted his cheek, laughing. "No need to go bitch at me, Johnny. I'm already married. You on the other hand..."

"Shut up," he muttered, and pushed her hand away. "It's not funny."

~*~

They left late in the evening, together, and watching Stéphane get his - dried by now - pants, say good-bye to Victoria and then the adults, Johnny started to feel a little bad. After all, well, the poor guy had just left his homeland a couple weeks ago and he didn't know anyone here and Johnny was pretty sure with that accent, the first thing anyone did was laugh at him.

People could be really mean.

And he didn't have a car yet. That had to suck majorly. Aside from the hotel thing. Johnny had a feeling Stéphane should really maybe start looking for an apartment or something. That would probably help with the not feeling so lonely.

Not that Johnny knew what Stéphane was feeling. Maybe he was totally hard-core and it didn't bother him at all. Any of it. If it did, he certainly didn't let it show. Maybe he'd spent too much time with the Japanese. That was possible too.

He turned around, reconsidering, and grabbed Stéphane's arm just as he was about to get out his cell and walk down the street.

"Do you want a ride?"

Stéphane blinked, surprised. "Really? I was just about to call a cab -"

"No, it's - I got my car here. I can - you know?"

"That - would be really nice, actually."

Johnny gave him a dirty look. "No need to act so shocked. I can be nice, you know?"

"Yeah." Stéphane shrugged. "I know. I've seen you with other people."

Johnny raised his eyebrows, opening his mouth to snark back, but then thought better of it and resumed the moral high ground (or as much as he had left of it, anyway). "C'mon then."

They got into the car and there was a while of silence as Johnny steered it on the road and drove. Then Stéphane said, "You don't like me very much, do you."

Johnny forced himself to not look fakely astounded. "I don't know. Do I?"

Stéphane sighed and turned away, towards the window. He didn't look very happy.

"I'm sorry," Johnny finally muttered, a little bit ashamed and guilty, because well. He'd been behaving like an ass. "I didn't -"

"It's okay." Stéphane's interruption was timely enough because Johnny had had no idea what else to say beside 'I didn't mean to be that way'. "I just thought you were fine with it. You said so to Galina and Victor." The last bit sounded a little accusing.

"What was I supposed to say?" Johnny snorted. " _No, I don't want you to coach him, I'm almost an only child and I can't stand the thought of someone else getting your affection, and also I won't be able to focus anymore because I'll be thinking all the time about how to get into his pants_? I think not."

Stéphane blinked. "Wait - what?"

"Nothing." Johnny could feel himself blush. "Really. Nothing."

"I'm not going to steal them away from you," Stéphane said gently. "I'm not trying to - to become part of your family. If you don't want me to visit or be close to you and them, that's okay. We don't have to do the dinner thing. They invited me, so I thought it would be rude to say no, but if you have a problem with any interaction I have that is off training time, I can cut it out. You know that, right? You were here first. I'm not - I'm trying not to be an imposition here. I can work stuff out by myself, I - I think I might even need to. I mean, it's always nice to have a support system, but we're at a stage, as sportsmen, where one should be able to deal with one's own head, one's own fears and hopes. So."

"I didn't mean to drive you away," Johnny said, not looking at him. "They weren't supposed to like you that quickly. It's - they just weren't. It wasn't supposed to be so easy. For you." He could feel Stéphane's stare and felt himself flush again. "It wasn't easy for me. To move here. With no one else all by myself."

"You think it's easy?" Stéphane asked, incredulous. "I'm thousands of miles away from my family, from the people who love me and support me. You think - you don't think I'm working really hard not to focus on that and try to make new beginnings here?"

"I don't know," Johnny admitted. "I didn't think about that."

"It's damn hard," Stéphane said and rubbed his hand against his knee, almost like he was nervous. "It's easier to act like nothing's wrong than to show it, that's all."

"You're a good actor," Johnny smiled.

"Thanks." Stéphane lowered his head, grinned, and whispered, "Bitch."

Johnny punched his shoulder. "Shut up. You should be so lucky to get to call me that."

"So...." Stéphane's grin widened. "I'm still out on that sex-in-the-car thing. How about it?"

Johnny shook his head, but he was grinning, too. "Really," he said. "Don't even start."

There was challenge in Stéphane's eyes. But Johnny could live with that. He really could. Unresolved sexual tension? Walk in the park. As always.

~*~


End file.
